Hobbit of My Dreams
by Nfinity
Summary: AU SLASH FrodoSam After years of yearning, Frodo faces the truth about Sam and decides on a life of passionate celibacy. But Sam has something else planned. Companion to A Hobbit Fairy Tale.
1. Chapter 1

Hobbit Of My Dreams 

Warnings: Hobbit Lovin' abounds, and of course, this is slash (if you didn't know that then there's something wrong with you ;) ) slight depressive dream sequences.

Disclaimer: I don't own these scrumdidlyumptious beings; they all belong to Prof. Tolkien, the Lord of Middle-Earth.

Author's Ramble: You don't have to readA Hobbit Fairy Taleto understand this, but I think it will help understand what triggers Frodo's memories/dreams. This is also me first Frodo/Sam fic, and I found it slightly difficult to write, so I hope it's better for the trouble I had writing it. Thanks to all those who reviewed my M/P fic and asked me to post this! Hope you like it! Oh and /../ denotes a word in italics, 'cause my computer sucks.

Hobbit Of My Dreams

1. Deep Dreams and Hidden Desires

Frodo Baggins was no longer a young man. Though by physical appearances, he was hardly older than 33, he was really years older. Though no one knew it, a tiny gold band that he'd inherited from Bilbo caused his un-aging appearance. He enjoyed all the normal comforts of a gentlehobbit, and spent most of his days reading abook or taking a walk through the lovely gardens that his gardener, Samwise Gamgee, had planted around his home. He was admiring the new gladiolas that Sam had planted when the mess with Merry and Pippin, his two dearest cousins, happened.

Pippin had come to Bag End with his father, and, though Frodo had been warned beforehand, it broke his heart to see the normally sunny and buoyant Pippin downcast and frail. Pippin had poured his heart out to Frodo, telling him of his love for Merry, and the incident that Pippin called a 'mistake'; he'd told Merry his feelings and Merry had seemingly rejected him.

All had worked out in the end, Merry had realized that he'd felt the same way as Pippin and had offered him a Promise Ring, binding them heart-and-soul together without an official ceremony. But Frodo still felt that this happy occasion was bittersweet, and the dark circles under his eyes were an indication that he was not his usual cheerful self.

Sam noticed the shadows under Frodo's eyes, and that his normally pale skin had a sickly pallor. But, as his servant, he kept his mouth shut, though when he cooked breakfast that morning it was set in a thin line. He set the food down in front of Frodo who gave it a cursory glance but didn't pick up his fork. That was all the encouragement that Sam needed.

"You need to eat Mr. Frodo. You don't look very healthy, if you beg me pardon for sayin'," Frodo looked up at Sam, his blue eyes glassy and unfocussed.

"I'm fine Sam, you go ahead and eat and then you can show me those lovely flowers you planted in the garden," Frodo said, in a voice that was to Sam, weary and small. Sam shook his head.

"I think you're coming down with something, Mr. Frodo, an' I'm not letting you up from this table until you eat at least half of that." He sat down across from Frodo and gave him the sternest look he could give his master. Frodo smiled, a flash of his normal self, and then he picked up his fork and forced himself to eat exactly half of the contents of his plate. When he'd finished, he looked up at Sam expectantly. Sam nodded, his worry temporarily assuaged. He thought that perhaps a walk through the garden might actually be a good thing for Frodo, so he got Frodo's spring and fall jacket and walked outside with him.

"The flowers are lovely as always, Sam," Frodo said in a tired voice as he sat down on the garden bench. He was exhausted, having not had much sleep in the past ten nights. Nightmares and shadows chased him in his sleep; memories he'd hoped would stay buried resurfacing to cut fresh wounds in his heart. Nothing he did could chase them away, so he'd wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and sometimes even crying out, tears usually streaming from his eyes. By the fifth night, he'd forced himself to stay awake, not daring to close his eyes for more than a second for fear of the monsters that lurked behind his eyelids.

"Mr. Frodo?" Frodo started; he hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep sitting there. Sam was kneeling before him, worry reflecting in his dark brown eyes, the breeze ruffling his sandy-blonde hair. Frodo smiled a sad smile, knowing that the deepest secret in his heart could never be fulfilled, shouldn't even be mentioned! He averted his eyes from those warm, trusting eyes, blushing slightly.

"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice sounded anxious, and Frodo involuntarily flinched when he felt Sam touch his forehead. "I'm fine, Sam," he said, trying to dodge the concerned look that Sam gave him. He stood up and gave a huge yawn.

"Why don't you take a nap before luncheon, Mr. Frodo? You look very tired." Frodo nodded, not really wanting to sleep, just wanting Sam to quit worrying.

"I think that's a god idea, Sam. Wake me up when it's time for lunch."

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He was sitting on the bed, reading a book, trying to force himself to stay awake. If he closed his eyes the nightmares would start again. He didn't really know the moment that he stopped reading and shut his eyes; all he was aware of was suddenly not being in his bed.

"Frodo, what's the matter?" The voice again, the voice that constantly haunted him. Bright green eyes flecked with brown and a smile that could brighten up the cloudiest of days; thick blonde hair framing a cherubic face, a mouth that was always pouty, even when it was smiling. Frodo was young again, only about twenty, and this hobbit was older by seven years. How he yearned to touch that face, run his hands through that hair. "Frodo?" Frodo blushed for he was staring.

"I'm fine," he answered, hoping to ease the other's suspicions. The hobbit in question raised a light eyebrow and stared at him expectantly. He blushed again and looked away from those all-too perceptive eyes.

"I—I have something t—to tell you," he stammered, staring at the forest floor. He felt the sunlight warm on his back and the gentle breeze tumbling through his hair. He had to tell him, had to now or he never would. He snuck a glance up at his companion. His features had changed. A slight build had turned to that muscular body of a worker, his pale skin had tanned, his hazel eyes had turned a warm brown, and his hair was a shade darker. "Oh, Sam," he whispered, his heart breaking as the words spilled from his mouth unbidden. "I love you." The look of horror on his companion's face broke whatever resolve Frodo had had and he turned, fleeing the secret little grove.

He woke up with a gasp of pain, tears falling from his eyes. The dream had changed. Memory had melted into fantasy—only that fantasy had become a /nightmare/. A sob rose in his throat, and he forced himself to stop crying when he heard Sam's footsteps outside the door.

"Mr. Frodo? I hate to wake you, but lunch is ready." Frodo hurriedly wiped his eyes and willed himself calm. "Mr. Frodo?" The door opened just as Frodo got out of bed and he greeted the worried look of his friend with a forced smile.

"I'm awake Sam," he said, picking up the book that had fallen off the bed and setting it on the bedside table. He stretched and accompanied Sam to the kitchen. They ate in silence, Frodo focussing on his food, Sam trying to understand his master's sudden aloofness.

"Is something troubling you, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo winced slightly, knowing what his thoughts had been moments earlier. He shook his head, not looking up from his plate. "You got a letter, Mr. Frodo. From Mr. Pippin." Sam got up and got the letter handing it to Frodo. Frodo pushed aside his half-eaten meal and opened it. Inside was a cordial letter talking about the normal affairs of the Great Smials and day-to-day events. At the bottom of the letter was an invitation for Frodo (and Sam, if he wished) to join Pippin and Merry at the Green Dragon for a meal, or (if the weather permitted) a picnic by the river, that Saturday. Frodo drafted a response immediately, saying that he and Sam would be delighted to join them for a picnic, and he sent Sam to post it.

When Sam returned, he found Frodo outside, sitting on the garden bench, reading a rather old-looking and large book. He decided not to bother him, and went back to the daily care that he gave his flowers. Frodo, who was not actually reading the book, was waging an inner war with himself. His dream earlier was plaguing him, and the recently uncovered feeling he'd long kept buried for Sam.

He remembered how happy Merry and Pippin had looked when they finally admitted their feelings, and he yearned to find that happiness. More than anything, he wished to get the weight of his secret off his chest, but the memory of the last encounter he'd had with forbidden love left him cold with the fear of Sam's impending rejection. 'But', his heart countered, 'what if he doesn't reject you?' That thought left him even more frightened than Sam rejecting him. Their simple friendship would be changed forever, and they would have to face many difficult challenges, should their relationship be found out. 'He would probably just be horrified at the notion of you loving him', his mind told him, 'So why worry about those things when they probably won't happen?' He shied from that cold inner voice, wanting desperately to believe his heart.

He heaved a heavy, sad sigh and shut the book, getting up and walking back into Bag End, the matter still unresolved.

Saturday arrived with blue skies and a warm summer breeze. Merry and Pippin came around lunchtime, with a picnic basket and warm smiles. It was obvious that they were in love, and anyone who couldn't see it deserved to be called daft. They both hugged Frodo, and Merry commented on how tired Frodo seemed. Frodo played it off as nothing more than a slight cold and smiled brightly. A little too brightly to Pippin's perceptive gaze. As they gathered things and put them in the basket along with the things Merry and Pippin had brought, Pippin took Frodo aside.

"Is something troubling you, cousin?" Frodo glanced away from those knowing green eyes; Pippin had become a little wiser with love, and Frodo /did not/ want to talk to Pippin about his affections. He shook his head and smiled a genuine smile.

"I'm fine, Pippin," he said. Seeing Pippin's skeptical look, he added quietly, "I've been having trouble sleeping, that's all." Pippin opened his mouth to speak, but Merry called them over and he shut his mouth, giving Frodo a 'we'll talk later' look as they headed out the door.

The picnic was just what Frodo needed. It cheered him up to have a carefree day spent with his three friends laughing and talking and eating with leisure. Frodo soon forgot the dreams that plagued him and the growing yearning in his heart. He simply enjoyed the company of his friends and the beautiful summer day.

2nd Author's Ramble: I realize that I "chopped" this chapter off at a bad part, but I'm not used to having to edit my stories and I hope it works out. If you want to review and tell me if anythign could use changing, I'm open to ideas, because to be honest I'm not really as happy with this one as I was with AHFT. The second chapter should be out before I leave on Monday, but I'm not making any promises with this. Hope everyone has a great Holiday!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I thought I'd post the second part before Christmas. The third, and final, part won't be posted until probably after the New Year, so...sorry and hope you enjoy this. P.S. Ignore the numbers in the middle...they're meant to be breaks, since I don't know how to put page breaks on here. Sorry

Chapter 2

All too soon they were staggering to the front door of Bag End, well aware that comfortable beds and even more comfortable ale was waiting for them. Each let out a contented sigh as they settled themselves in the livingroom chairs. Frodo went to the kitchen as Merry and Sam got out their pipes and Pippin followed him.

Frodo turned with the four full mugs of ale and found himself face to face with Pippin. He sighed and tried to move past him. Pippin wouldn't let him.

"Not tonight, Pippin," Frodo said irritably. "I've had a good day and I'd like to keep it that way." Pippin took the mugs of beer from Frodo's hands and set them on the table.

"I'm not letting you out of here until you tell me what's the matter." Frodo sighed again and sat down.

"Why does it matter, Pippin? I'm a grown hobbit. I can take care of myself." Pippin stared at him with a patient look and waited silently. "All right!" Frodo was beyond exasperation, acting as if Pippin had pestered him to no end. "I'll tell you, but you must swear that it stays here." Pippin grinned a grin that was typical to his lineage and Frodo gave a mock scowl that turned into a small smile. Then he sighed.

"I've been having dreams about…/him," Frodo said in a low voice. Pippin's eyes widened. "And they remind me about all of it all the time and I haven't been getting much sleep lately. But, I'm getting better," he finished lamely. Pippin looked sceptical.

"That's not all that's wrong," he said. Frodo frowned. He'd hoped he could convince Pippin it was just the dreams bothering him. "Why don't you tell him?" Once again Frodo marvelled at the change in Pippin, how finding his love had slowed his rambunctious nature a little, how it'd made him more attentive to what was happening around him. At the same time he wondered if he was really /that/ transparent.

"Tell who what?" Frodo asked, trying, and failing, to appear not to know what Pippin was talking about. Pippin scoffed and stood his ground. Laughter came from the living room and Frodo caught a glimpse of tussled sandy curls. He expelled a breath and looked at the floor. "He's…." his voice caught and Frodo was amazed to find tears welling in his eyes. He forced himself to stay calm and started again. "He's too young. And," he continued, quelling Pippin's protests, "he doesn't need the confusion of me loving him. No," his voice had an audible catch and he cleared his throat, trying to force the lump from it. "He'll get married and have as many kids as he deserves."

"But—" Pippin started but Frodo cut him off.

"/No, Pippin, it's what he deserves." Tears splashed on his cheeks. "It's all I can give him." Pippin opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, sighing deeply.

"If that's what you want Frodo," he said solemnly. "But are you sure that's what Sam wants?"

1

Thunder crashed down on the earth, seeming to be punishing it for the great weather that past week. Pippin shivered under the covers and moved closer to Merry's side. Merry, noticing Pippin's unease, wrapped his arm more securly around him, smiling when Pippin scooted even closer.

"To think that only a few hours ago we were picnicking with Frodo and Sam," Pippin said softly. Merry stroked his auburn curls and mumbled an affirmative. They would be leaving early the next morning, they needed the sleep. But something was niggling the back of Merry's mind.

"What were you talking about with Frodo earlier, Pip?" Pippin laid quiet, thinking about what they'd dicussed. He concurred that Frodo wouldn't mind him telling Merry, so he did.

"And I knew that there was more to it than old nightmares," he said slowly. Merry was looking at him, his blue eyes shining whenever the lightning flashed. "I finally figured it out, Merry. Why he helped us, why he was so perceptive with me. He knew because he was/is, feeling the same thing I was." Pippin bit his lip, not sure how far he wanted to break his cousin's confidence. He knew Merry'd never tell. "He's in love with Sam, Merry, and Sam's perfectly oblivious to it." A soft smile graced his lips as he added, "and Frodo's completely oblivious to Sam." Merry laid there, mulling it over in his head. It made sense, really. Frodo loved Sam, and anyone with half a brain could tell that Sam was completely devoted to Frodo. If only they could be able to see it. A wistful sigh caught his attention and he leaned down to see Pippin looking out into space, his eyes soft and sad. Merry fixed the image of Pippin like that forever in his mind, to savor when tey were separated. He leaned in and captured Pippin's mouth in a kiss, to which Pippin responded to instantly with a groan.

"I love you," Merry said when they broke apart, an intense urgency in his voice and eyes. Pippin nodded, kissing Merry again.

2

Darkness surrounded him. It pressed into him, permeating his very skin. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He was going to drown in this darkness; die without anyone. He wept and the darkness echoed his sorrow, pounding into him with every beat of his heart. He needed air, blue skies, and a recognizable face. It squeezed into him and he was fading, plunging headlong into the dark abyss with eager abandon, anything just to be free…

"Mr. Frodo!" Frodo was awake in an instant, the oppressing darkness lifted by a single flame, a lit candle. He was breathing heavily, sweat coated his skin. He sat up and looked for the source of the familiar voice. "Mr. Frodo?" There Sam was, wearing only a pair of breeches, a worried expression on his face. Frodo forced himself to breathe normal, and the stricken look passed from his face, revealing a very exhausted visage.

"I'm alright, Sam," he said wearily. Sam shook his head.

"No you're not, Mr. Frodo, you're not eating, you're losing weight, you haven't gotten enough sleep in nigh over a week." A hurt look passed over his eyes, but it was quickly replaced again by worry. "Won't you tell me?" He stopped, struggling to find the words. "Won't you tell me what's wrong, Frodo? Maybe, maybe I can help you." He looked so sad that Frodo felt guilty for hiding his problem. He almost told him, right then and there, but he stopped himself. Sam couldn't know. He wouldn't understand and Frodo just knew he'd leave and never look back. "Let me help you, Mr. Frodo."

"I—I don't know, Sam," he lied. "I guess I've been having odd dreams of late. It's nothing to be worried about." He looked outside. "Has the storm gotten worse?" Thunder clapped outside and answered his question. He faked a yawn and smiled wanly at Sam. "You should get some sleep, Sam. Don't worry yourself over an old hobbit like me." He lay back down again and prayed that Sam would go before Frodo had time to let his eyes rove over Sam's chest, the sculpted muscles brought into sharp relief by the candle. He closed his eyes and heard Sam sigh, a sad testimony to his worry. He waited until the door closed and the darkness pulled around him again before sitting up. He'd get no more sleep this night.

2nd A/N: As you can see this is the shortest part. Sorry, it's just the way I edited it. The final part will be longer and will contain more mature themes...yes, it has sex. But that's at the end, so if you don't like it...well. Anyway, hope everyone has a great Christmas tomorrow. Don't drink TOO much egg-nog!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Holy crap. I feel so freaking bad. I know I said I'd update this final part...but I forgot about it. I've had to deal with school work, exams, college searches and scholarship applications...but that's not an excuse. Im' on the internet every night...I should know better. Thanks so very very much to Your Mom's Face for messaging me and threatening me bodily harm. And thank's to those woderful people who've reviewed. :D Loves and kisses to you all. Nfinity **

**P.S. This chapter is most definitely a lemon. ;) There should be a warning of strong sexual content and it's not sutiable for so and so etc, etc. So...there's the warning. Enjoy. >:)**

Chapter 3

Days passed and the weather continued to be unnaturally dreary. The storm had subsided to a steady rain, causing farmers and gardeners everywhere to sit in alehouses, grumbling amongst themselves about their crops and gardens being flooded. Frodo didn't mind it; the weather was suiting his mood. Time cloistered inside gave him time to think about his conversation a week ago with Pippin, and the last words Pippin had said. Are you sure that's what Sam wants? The question had been spinning around in his mind, bothering him, daring him to figure out the answer. You'll never know unless you ask, a secret, hopeful voice kept telling him. He ignored it. He'd been down that road before. No amount of longing would make him bare his heart on his sleeve like he'd done before.

He was sitting at the window, watching the rainfall, deep in his musings, when Sam came in, completely soaked and mumbling to himself.

"There ain't nothing for it, Mr. Frodo," he said, drying himself off with a towel. "If this rain doesn't stop, my flowers will die"  
Frodo turned to Sam and felt the accustomed lurch of his heart. The worry and fear in Sam's eyes made him smile.

"Don't worry, Sam, I'm sure the rain will stop before that happens." He watched the towel make its passes on Sam's skin,  
filling his eyes with the vision of wet Sam before turning back to the window. "You'll see, it'll stop."

By mid-afternoon the rain did trickle down to only a drizzle, and the general mood of Bag End lightened. After a good supper, Frodo and Sam sat in the living room in front of the empty hearth, Frodo reading out of a book, and Sam puffing lightly on his pipe.

"Tomorrow I'll have to go out and weigh up the damage, I suppose," Sam mused, accenting the remark with a puff of his pipe. Frodo nodded absently, sneaking peeks at his gardener. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help himself. He /needed/ to fill his eyes with Sam's hard country beauty. Hard muscles, hidden beneath a thin layer of hobbit fat, that strained and bulged with hard work, creamy skin that tanned in summer and turned pale in winter, sandy hair that varied shades with the different seasons and warm, nut brown eyes that shone with a sharper intelligence than many gave him credit for, Sam was nothing if not beautiful.

"Mr. Frodo?" Frodo was startled out of his daydream by Sam's uncertain question. He looked over at Sam's worried face and frowned.

"What is it Sam?" Sam opened his mouth and closed it, clearly trying to find the right thing to say.

"Well," he said slowly, and hesitantly, Frodo noticed. "I want, I /need/ to tell you something." He shook his head. "You probably don't want to hear it, though." Frodo closed the book he hadn't really been reading and set it aside, giving Sam his full attention.

"What is it, Sam? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me." Sam nodded, but still looked unsure. Frodo reached over and touched Sam's hand reassuringly. "I won't turn away from anything you have to say, Sam." Sam nodded again, looking a little surer.

"I well, I've been wanting to tell you for the longest time, Frodo, about—" Sam blushed. "Well, I suppose the best way to say it is just to say it, but it's not proper, you see, and I don't know how you feel." He took a deep breath and let out in a great whoosh, "Frodo, I think that I love you. I mean, I know I do and it's okay if you don't feel the same, it's just, I can't bear to keep it secret anymore." Sam stopped when he saw Frodo smiling, chuckling even.

"Oh, my Sam," he said softly, light coming into his eyes. "There are so many things you don't know." He got up and walked to Sam, crouching beside him, his hand on Sam's arm. "Oh, blast what's proper, Sam. I love you too. I was so afraid you'd reject me, that I kept my peace for years now, ever since you were a young tween." His eyes were shining and he smiled at Sam's equally bewildered and comprehending expression. Frodo continued, confessing about his dreams and the reasons behind his fear and of his long-hidden love. He watched Sam take it all in and revelled as Sam wiped away the tears that were trickling down Frodo's face, sorrow and joy mixed in those droplets. Once purged of all the fear and doubt and pain he'd hidden for so long, Frodo felt better than he'd felt in many weeks.

"Frodo," Samwhispered reverently. One look into Sam's eyes and Frodo stood, beckoning Sam to follow him. He led him into his room, closing the door behind him. He turned and was enveloped in those strong arms, warm lips pressing against the sensitive skin of his throat. He moaned, feeling the reverberations on Sam's lips and gently extricated himself before things got /too/ out of hand. He smiled, nervous in front of his love-soon-to-be-lover. "Let's take it slow, for the moment, Sam," he said breathlessly, feeling his presence even though he was more than a few inches away. Frodo closed the gap between them and hesitantly brought his lips to Sam's. Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo, pulling him as close as possible, and Frodo wanted to be close to him. The kiss turned passionate and Sam, taking the initiative, began to maneuver Frodo towards the bed. Sam kept deepening the kiss, exploring the cavern of Frodo's mouth with his tongue, delving deep and causing Frodo to moan into his mouth. The backs of his knees hit the bed and, without breaking the kiss, Sam gently lowered Frodo down, still holding him tight. Frodo hissed through his teeth as Sam's bulk pressed against his very obvious erection and he felt an answering bulge. "Oh, Sam," Sam's mouth moved from his mouth to his cheeks, his eyes, his ears. His tongue flicked out against the shell of Frodo's pointed ear and he shuddered, shifting against Sam and consequently rubbing their erections together.

Frodo soon decided that this was too slow and took matters into his own hands, so to speak, flipping Sam over skilfully and sitting on his hips, one leg on each side of him. Sam's wide-eyed look of surprise soon turned to a sultry look as Frodo rocked his hips purposefully, to get his point across. Frodo leaned forward and his deft scholar's fingers made short work of Sam's smaller shirt buttons and soon Sam was shirtless and flushing under the heat of Frodo's hungry gaze. Frodo realized that Sam was completely at his mercy and that thought made him giddy. He also realized though, that if Sam wanted to, he could flip Frodo over effortlessly and have his way with him. That thought was appealing.

"I want to see you," Sam said, his voice low and husky. He reached up and undid the buttons on Frodo's shirt and Frodo pulled it back, revealing his pale chest. Sam leaned up and ran his hands over his master's chest, his lips and tongue following behind his fingertips. Frodo's groans and soft exclamations told Sam he was doing the right thing. Frodo bucked his hips and Sam groaned, the need plain in his voice. Frodo got up, leaving Sam laying there spread eagle. When he returned he was completely naked, a bottle with clear liquid in one hand. Sam gasped and Frodo blushed.

"Oh, Frodo," Sam breathed. "You're so beautiful." Sam's reverent tone made Frodo blush further and he bent down, slowly trailing his long fingers down Sam's golden chest to the top of his breeches, slowly undoing the buttons, licking his lips in anticipation. He pulled Sam's breeches off and now Sam was flushed, exposed to the world and Frodo's dark blue eyes glittering with love and lust. Frodo softly touched Sam there, in that most private place, gently stroking his length. A shuddering moan came from Sam's parted lips and Frodo pulled his hand away, making Sam whimper in protest. He loved this new sensation, feeling as though they had all the time in the world to explore and love each other. But Frodo's own pressing need belied that sentiment. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the cold liquid onto his hand. He touched Sam again, smearing the oil up and down his length, teasing Sam just a little, eliciting soft cries and pleading moans and exclamations of love. He stopped and handed the bottle to Sam who looked confused through the haze of heat.

"I want you to make love to me Sam," Frodo breathed. The haze left his eyes and he blushed, his eyes widening, the brown almost obscured by the dilated pupils.

"But, Frodo, I… I've never, what if it hurts you?" Sam stumbled over his words and finally stopped as Frodo put his finger to Sam's lips.

"I know it'll hurt at first, dear Sam," he said in a calm voice. "But it's what I want." His eyes pleaded with Sam, whose conviction was wavering rapidly. "Don't make me beg, Samwise Gamgee." But he was begging and Frodo knew that Sam's inhibition was slipping away and he smiled softly. "I want to feel you… inside me." Those words, and the earnestness and need in Frodo's voice, completely shattered any protest Sam might have voice and he groaned, tipping the bottle over and spilling the oil on his hand. He touched Frodo's erection, softly, as if petting a kitten, and then reached lower, stroking his balls and then proceeding even lower. A soft hiss accompanied the intrusion and Sam stopped as he saw the slight flicker of pain on Frodo's face.

"Don't stop, Sam, I'll be alright." He continued moving his finger and he nearly stopped again when Frodo let out a hiss of surprise, and he shifted, causing Sam's finger to brush a hard spot again and Frodo moaned. Sam, apt student that he was, inserted a second finger, making sure to hit that spot as much as possible, to insure that the pain was outweighed by the pleasure in Frodo's voice. A third finger stretched Frodo enough and Sam withdrew after a few minutes, to mewling protests from a sweaty, flushed Frodo. He readied himself and, at Frodo's nod, entered him. The discomfort quickly vanished as Frodo got used to the sensation and he shifted, indicating that Sam could start moving. They quickly found a suitable pace and their passions mounted. Frodo felt like he'd never felt before, the pleasure and knowledge that this was /Sam/ making him feel this good, this was his love giving him all of this pleasure sending him over the edge, unable to get back to the real world, and he gasped, crying Sam's name over and over in a hoarse husky shout, and released, spilling his seed between them. Sam continued moving, holding Frodo's hips with strong, calloused hands and moving him at a steady paced. Soon after Frodo had climaxed, he too released, filling Frodo with his seed, with his passion, and with his love.

They lay together, panting for breath, one breathing in as the other breathed out, so that it seemed they were sharing life, sharing their souls with one another. Frodo was the first to recover and he slid off of Sam, curling up against Sam's side and covering them both with a cool sheet.

"Oh my Sam," he sighed, more content than he could ever remember feeling in his life. "I love you so much." Sam smiled and curled his fingers in Frodo's damp hair.

"I love you too, Frodo. Always have and always will." They drifted off to sleep together, the drizzle outside stopping and the grey clouds that had hovered, swollen and discontent, moved away, revealing a gorgeous sunset of violet and mauve, gold and azure, and the last rays of the sun warming their heads as they slept.

FIN


End file.
